Both
by LuxaLucifer
Summary: She reminded him of the bustle of a busy battalion, the early morning sun, the clink of weapons as they were handed to the men who'd wield them. "Quartermaster Threnn," he said.


I believe the thesxmmersword asked for Loghain and Threnn meeting again- so here it is!

* * *

So much was happening in the world, and yet here he was with a bottle of wine to himself and a nice view to drink it over. Funny how things worked out. They were in the eye of the storm of course, with only a few weeks between now and the attack on Adamant fortress…but for now, this was nice. He ignored the nagging feeling that it was usually nicer to have someone to drink wine _with_ and walked up to the edge of the walkway, his arms over the side of the stone railing.

"Er…ser?"

Loghain started suddenly from his perch, tearing his gaze away from the cloudless sky. "Yes?" he said, turning and expecting to face one of the spymaster's messengers. Instead it was a plain woman in armor and wearing a traditional Ferelden headpiece….and he knew that face.

He was brought back to the battlefields of his home, the army he'd commanded, the way he had walked down every row of tents to check upon his soldiers…it had been a long time ago, but not so long that Loghain couldn't pull a name from the recesses of his memory. She reminded him of the bustle of a busy battalion, the early morning sun, the clink of weapons as they were handed to the men who'd wield them.

"Quartermaster Threnn," he said.

"Teyrn Loghain," she replies, lips curving up into a smile, scars and all. "I didn't think you would remember me."

"I'm no longer a Teyrn," he said. "I'm a Warden, and you should address me as such."

She raised an eyebrow. "You haven't changed," she said.

An awkward silence permeated the air.

"Ah," he said, "Why don't you join me?" He gestured to the wine and the table. She pulled out the second unused chair and he took his seat across from her.

"So how did you end up here?" he asked, pouring her a glass. "Working for the Inquisition."

"Your daughter, Queen Anora," said Threnn. "She sent me to the Inquisition so I could get out of the politics of it all."

"She sent you _here_ to get rid of politics?" said Loghain, chuckling.

"They ended up changing my job up," said Threnn. "I used to be the frontline quartermaster, but when they started directly interacting with Orlais…well, people of my opinions didn't need to talk to the poncy bastards."

"What opinions are those?"

"That you were right," said Threnn evenly, meeting his eyes. "About Ostagar."

He glanced down at his wine, at the table, at anything but her. Then he remembered himself and nodded. "I can imagine those are difficult opinions to hold."

"I'm not the one ostracized for it," she said, tapping the side of her glass with blunt fingernails. Neither of them had much to say to each other.

"Thank you for the honor," said Threnn, filling in the silence.

"The honor?" said Loghain. "Not many would still consider it as such."

"I do," said Threnn seriously. "I always will, Commander."

They clinked their glasses of wine. It was a strangely intimate moment. Loghain smiled at her. "Perhaps it's selfish," he said. "But it is nice to see that not everyone sees me the same way."

"I don't think that's selfish at all, Warden Loghain," said Threnn. "And it makes me right glad I came and talked to you, because I don't want you to think that the _entire_ world turned against you. I'm not the only one who feels the way I do."

"That's good to hear."

"I'm sure people ask you this all the time," said Threnn, adjusting the hat she was wearing. "But would you do it again, knowing all that you do now?"

When people asked this, because they did and they did often, he usually hardened his mouth, furrowed his brow, and said, "No." He'd lost everything in becoming a Warden, and he wouldn't let them take his pride too. That was what he usually said, anyway. But he was tired, and he'd had quite a bit of wine.

"I don't know," he confessed. "Sometimes I think dying at Ostagar would have been a better end."

"I would be dead too," said Threnn calmly.

"I know," said Loghain. "That thought really is selfish."

"If you hadn't pulled at Ostagar, the Hero of Ferelden wouldn't have survived to depose you."

He chuckled at that. "You're right, of course."

"You did the right thing, Loghain Mac Tir," she said, downing the rest of her wine in one gulp. "Don't you start doubting yourself now. The things after that…you made some mistakes. Some bad ones."

"Some very bad ones."

"Yes," agreed Threnn, rolling her eyes. "But don't let anyone make you regret Ostagar, because you'd be regretting all the lives you saved. People who say you killed the king…one man's life isn't worth an army's, especially when you'd lose that life either way."

"I shouldn't need you to remind me of all of this," said Loghain.

"It's fine," said Threnn. "I can't imagine what the last ten years have been like for you."

"They've been fine," he said. "I have a lot to make up for."

"If you say so," she replied, standing up. "I've got duties to attend to but…believe me, Warden Loghain. Seeing you again meant more than I can express. Thank you for all you've done."

"For the Wardens or for Ferelden?"

"Both," she said.

"Thank you too," said Loghain, who decided to go back to looking at the view from the railing. He meant his words.

She gave a wave a bit too awkward for such a serious woman and left, walking down the steps with a quickness of step he hadn't possessed for years. He stared at the cloudless sky and tall mountains and smiled.


End file.
